The Knights Of Walpurgis
by Majick
Summary: As Harry Potter enters his 6th year at Hogwarts, Death Eaters strike fear into Muggle communities. Harry must rise above his grief and unite the Hogwarts students. The problem is, the cause of the dissension is Harry himself... Suspended: See end of C.2
1. Prologue

_(Author's Note: It's pretty much all J.K. Rowling's. I'm just playing here for a time. Secondly, thanks to MissK and Pooca for their beta work. Finally, a quick note of warning. Although I almost always write stories featuring H/G and R/Hr pairings, in this story things are a little different. Hope that doesn't scare too many people off. I'm not saying that those pairings won't emerge over time, but I'm dealing with teenagers, and they like to snog, slobber and grope... Darn kids...)_

_**Prologue**_

_28th June_

_Harry mate,_

_Hope you're alright. It was great to see Professor Lupin, Tonks and the others at Kings Cross, wasn't it? I thought your fat uncle would explode when Mad Eye Moody 'had a word' with him._

_Listen, Harry, I know you tend to keep quiet about stuff, but you shouldn't. Not with me or Hermione, anyway. If you want to talk, about Sirius or anything, you know where to find us._

_What d'you reckon the chances are we'll get called up to help Dumbledore sometime this summer? I hope so. It's miserable here. Mum's still really upset about Percy. He still hasn't come home. I know us Weasleys are stubborn, but he was supposed to be the sensible one._

_Suppose I'd better get going. Bill's bringing Fleur Delacour and her sister Gabrielle home tonight. Mum's a bit weird about Fleur. She's years younger than Bill. Still, it'll be cool to see them all again. Me and Gabrielle can talk about old times, waiting for you to save our lives. Seems like a long time since that happened. Still Mum'll be putty in Fleur's hands once she sees Gabrielle. She's always wanted grandkids, and this'll be the next best thing._

_Even if we don't get involved with the other stuff, d'you want to come and visit later in the summer? I don't reckon Dumbledore would let you come soon, but I'll get Mum and Dad to ask when you can come. Hope it's soon. It's pretty boring here._

_Speak to you soon,_

_Ron_

* * *

_2nd July_

_Hermione,_

_Have you heard anything from Harry since term ended? I'm worried about him._

_I spoke to Mum and Dad. They say Harry needs time to get over Sirius. I hate him having to be alone._

_He hasn't written yet. I sent a letter a week ago... I'm probably just being stupid, right?_

_Hope you're okay,_

_Ron

* * *

_

_3rd July_

_Harry, how are you doing?_

_Listen mate, I was wondering if you had any instructions for us over the summer? I know that I was a latecomer to the DA and all, but I want to keep in training. Tell the truth, I'm probably safer than most living out here, but me dad's a Muggle, and I don't want anything happening to him. If I have to fight, I will. Mam's a bit unsure still, but it won't hurt for her to get in practise, right?_

_Anyway, drop us a line if you can give us any help. I reckon I'll dig out Professor Lupin's old notes, and that nutter Moody's too. _

_Hope you're having a good summer,_

_Seamus

* * *

_

_4th July_

_Ron,_

_How are you? I'm sure Harry is okay. He's very, well, Harry about things like this. He'll talk when he wants to, and not before. Still, I'm glad you've written to him. I did wonder if I should write, but I wasn't sure._

_I may write later in the week. Will you let me know if you hear anything? I'm staying with my gran at the moment. She doesn't know I'm a witch, so I had to run out into the garden when I saw Pigwidgeon. Still, he's a clever little owl, isn't he? He knew not to come into a Muggle house._

_My parents have gone away for a second honeymoon. I don't know why they had to go now. They have all year when I'm away at school, and now as soon as I come home, they go away. Nice, isn't it? Still, I haven't seen gran since the summer after first year. Mum and Dad haven't mentioned where I go to school, so she doesn't know about magic. They've left it up to me who I want to tell. What do you think I should do?_

_How's everyone else? Is Ginny okay after breaking up with Michael Corner? _

_Please write soon, _

_Hermione

* * *

_

_5th July_

_Hermione,_

_It's the same here as at Christmas. Mum's still upset with Percy, and Dad's furious, even if he doesn't show it. I know they're trying to make things alright for me and Ginny. Fred and George are helping out a lot. They've _officially_ opened their shop now - we went for the opening on the first but of course they've been selling stuff for ages - and they're still at home at the moment. George says they want to see how it all goes before they decide if they move out or not. Mum isn't happy, though. She doesn't want them to go at all._

_Still, Bill and Charlie are happy enough. Bill brought Fleur and Gabrielle home a few nights ago - remember her? Fleur's little sister. She's starting at Beauxbatons next year - and Mum really seemed happy. Charlie's still out in Romania, but he's talking about coming home soon. I think he's worried about Mum, and he wants to have a word with Percy, I imagine. Typical older brother stuff._

_Ginny's okay. Trust me on this. She spends most of the time down in the village. I think she's found herself another boyfriend. Keeps going on about all these new friends she's made and, well, there's always Luna Lovegood. That girl is seriously weird. And she lives close enough that she's always dropping in. She keeps looking at me like she's measuring me up. It's a bit off putting, to tell the truth._

_Anyway, that's all the news from the Burrow. Have you told your gran about magic yet? Maybe I can come and visit and we can do some spells for her. I bet Dad could swing it with work._

_Still no word from Harry. Write soon, yeah?_

_Ron

* * *

_

_7th July_

_Ron,_

_I'm sure there's more going on then that. I'm sending a letter to Ginny as well. If she has a new boyfriend, I want to know all about it. And no, you're _not_ allowed to read what I've written. Honestly, Ron, you know you're as big a gossip as Parvati and Lavender._

_Now, I've not told Gran anything about magic. I would like to see you, though. I'm not very far from the Burrow here so maybe you can come and visit? You could stay for a couple of days. It'd be fun to show you around the Muggle world a bit, for a change._

_I take it that there's still no word from Harry? It's been nearly two weeks now and he's usually very good about replying to letters. I do hope he's okay. I think I'll write as well. Maybe the Dursleys have blocked his post? I can't see how they would have done, though, after Moody scared them at Kings Cross._

_Anyway, I'd better go. I have to get up early tomorrow. Gran wants me to help out at the old folks' home. She keeps calling them layabouts, but I suppose when you're eighty-seven and walk five miles a day to keep fit, anyone who's in a home might seem to be a bit lazy._

_Well, good to hear from you. Don't pick on Ginny, boyfriend or not._

_Write soon, _

_Hermione

* * *

_

_7th July _

_Ginny,_

_Do you have a new boyfriend? Ron says you've been spending a lot of time in the village, and he thinks you've met someone new. Now, I know as well as anyone how much you can trust Ron about things like this, but still, he has to wake up at some point, right?_

_Anyway, what else is happening at the Burrow? Ron says there's nothing much going on, but you know what he's like. It's not that I mind having to write to both of you, but I half-wish that Harry or someone was there to give me a full, unbiased report on everything._

_Speaking of Harry, have you heard from him? I know you're not very close, but he hasn't written to Ron or me yet. I hope he's not bottling it all up, but I don't suppose he can talk to that dreadful family of his._

_Please write back soon. I want to hear everything!_

_Love, _

_Hermione

* * *

_

_7th July _

_Harry,_

_I have just got back from a whole day helping my Gran at the old folks' home. Can you believe my parents have abandoned me? Charming, isn't it?_

_I suppose I'm being silly complaining about it, but I did want to see them for more than a day before they disappeared off to Florida for a month. Still, it's nice seeing Gran again, even if I do have to pretend to be a Muggle while I'm here._

_I hope you're okay. I'm sorry that I haven't written sooner, but as soon as I got home, mum and dad whisked me off to gran's, and of course I don't have an owl of my own, so I've had to send Pig off with three letters, not that the little thing seems to mind._

_Anyway, are the Dursleys treating you properly? Don't hesitate to write to Dumbledore, or Remus or even Moody if they're being, well, themselves. And you can write to Ron or me if you want to talk about anything, even what happened at the Ministry, I hope you know that._

_Please write back soon._

_Love, _

_Hermione

* * *

_

_9th July_

_Hermione,_

_Coming to see you sounds cool. Anything to get out of here for a bit, although I suppose once I get back, I'll have Dad on at me about all the Muggle stuff._

_I don't reckon that those ruddy Muggles Harry lives with have done anything to his post - they wouldn't dare, you're right - but Ginny reckons he's just adjusting, whatever that means. _

_And yeah, 'course I know what it means, but I'm not sure I know what it _means_. I know Harry has to come to terms with Sirius being gone and stuff, but the way Ginny says it makes it sound really complicated and stuff, like there's more to it than I know._

_Anyway, this is making no sense. I've got another letter to write, anyway. Write back soon, and maybe I'll be able to reply with something that sounds a bit less like Loony Lovegood._

_Ron

* * *

_

_10th July_

_Hermione,_

_I only just got your letter. Ron shoved it behind the bread bin. I think he thought it was a love letter or something. Some hope!_

_No, there's no new boyfriend. Ron says he mentioned my friends in the village, but he's being silly. I see Luna and Colin sometimes, but the Muggles who live around here think that we're a weird family._

_Anyway, who cares about boys? Well, I know you do. One boy, anyway. As for him waking up at some point, well, I told you two years ago that you shouldn't hold your breath. I still think that you're ill if you want to date Ron, but I'm not really someone to give relationship advice._

_Ron said you invited him to see you at your gran's? I think you have to bite the bullet, Hermione. You've spent a year and a half being subtle. Stop it now. Ron doesn't do subtle. He never has, and probably never will. Besides, he's a boy. He thinks subtle is not burping out loud._

_And I haven't heard from Harry. Why would I? I know you want him to open up more, but when he does, it's not going to be to me. Not now, anyway. I wouldn't be surprised if you don't hear from him at all these holidays. It didn't take a genius to see how close he was to Sirius. It was like having his Dad around, and we all know how much he wanted that. Now he's had that taken away from him again, only this time he's old enough to have felt how close Sirius and he were._

_And yes, I've been doing a lot of reading these last few weeks. I think I've pretty much read everything in the local library now, even the trashy romances and clinical psychology books. I'm going to be going around Hogwarts applying labels to everyone I see. I'm just not sure if they'll be 'Long-legged, firm-thighed, hard-chested vagabond' or 'Commitment phobic who uses his looks to engage in meaningless short term relationships and leaves his partners broken hearted.' I won't even mention the labels that Ron's 'protective older brother' act is earning him. I know he tried to be nice at the end of last term, but it hasn't lasted._

_Anyway, can you tell how bored I am? Like I said, I've read all the books in a two-mile radius, and, well, home isn't much fun to be in right now. Charlie's coming home soon, though, and Bill's around a lot more. I think that's helping Mum keep going, but Percy's not ready to admit he was wrong yet, even with Fudge owning up. I can't understand him. I probably don't want to. _

_Well, Luna's just arrived. She says hello. I think she quite likes Ron too, so you might have competition. I don't get it. Isn't one wonderful Weasley (Me!) in your life enough? Don't do it to yourself, Hermione. I can recommend you a quite nice Ravenclaw sixth-year, if you like. _

_Love,_

_Ginny

* * *

_

_10th July_

_Hi Ginny, it's Dean here. _

_Just out of interest, have you been saying something to your brothers about me? I just received a nasty letter from them threatening me with all sorts of stuff if I take advantage of you._

_It's news to me that I'm in a position to take advantage of you. When exactly is this supposed to have taken place?_

_Anyway, write back to me and let me know what's going on, will you? It gets pretty boring here with nothing much to do during school holidays, and Seamus and Neville are both away at the moment._

_Hope to hear from you soon,_

_Dean

* * *

_

_11th July_

_Hermione,_

_I just got a very strange letter from Dean Thomas, asking me if I'd told Ron that we were going out. Apparently Ron said something to Dean that, well, I think you can probably guess what Ron said. It seems that without you around, Ron's reverted to his typical idiot role again._

_Any idea what I should say to Dean? It's a bit embarrassing to admit I used him to get a rise out of Ron. I do think he's quite cute - Dean, not Ron, obviously - and suppose I could flatter his ego a bit. Boys seem to like that._

_Apart from that, nothing's changed since my last letter, obviously._

_Speak to you soon,_

_Ginny

* * *

_

_11th July_

_Ron,_

_Ginny says you didn't give her my letter. Why on earth not?_

_Anyway, you're welcome to come and see me anytime. Just let me know when. I'm staying in Greenchurch at number 43, Winslowe Terrace._

_Speak to you soon, and I hope you and Ginny aren't arguing._

_See you soon, _

_Hermione

* * *

_

_11th July_

_Ginny,_

_If you think Dean's cute then there's no reason why you shouldn't see if he'd be interested in really going out with you. Did he seem very bothered by Ron's letter? He is rather attractive, isn't he?_

_I asked Ron why he didn't give you your last letter. Hope he passes you this one._

_Maybe you can come and visit me here in Greenchurch sometime this holiday as well?_

_See you soon, _

_Hermione

* * *

_

_12th July _

_Hermione,_

_I was just about to write to Dean when I got your letter. I forgot to tell you! Ron didn't hide my letter, he left it out for me on the table, and Mum stuck it behind the bread bin when she was cleaning. I hope you didn't say anything too bad to Ron. It turns out that he didn't send Dean that letter, either. Apparently Fred and George have decided to start approving my boyfriends by trying to scare them. Ron actually helped me get a bit of revenge on the pair of... Well, you can imagine what I think of them, right? At least they're just doing it for fun. They don't seem to mind me dating, or maybe they're too scared to say anything about it to me._

_Still, Ron seems to be a lot calmer this summer: It's really weird. I suppose I was exaggerating a bit in my first letter. In fact, he's barely said anything about Dean, and when I mentioned it to him, he just said it wasn't any of his business who I went out with, and he trusted me to pick someone better than Corner. I know that he talked to Bill quite a lot while Bill was staying here the first week of the holidays, but I didn't think that so much would rub off on him. It's a little bit unnerving, to be honest. _

_Anyway, like I said, I'm about to write to Dean. I think I'll sound him out about going out once we get back to school. I mean, you're right, he's definitely easy on the eyes, and he's really funny, as well. We talked quite a bit during the DA classes last year, so..._

_Right, enough. He's only a boy, and not worth getting too worked up about, right, Miss Prefect?_

_Speak to you soon,_

_Ginny

* * *

_

_12th July_

_Hi Hermione,_

_Yeah, if it's okay, I'll come along on the 15th at about 10 in the morning? Fred said he'd drop me off - he's got a flying motorbike like the one Sirius used to have._

_(And no, no word about Harry yet. It's been nearly three weeks now. Fred and George reckon they'll go see him if we haven't heard anything by the end of the week. I dunno, I mean, Dumbledore wpuld tell us if there was anything wrong, right? Still, I suspect that Harry would enjoy seeing a friendly face, 'though I imagine Tonks and Professor Lupin and plenty of others are keeping an eye on him close enough. Mum says that she's heard he's okay, too, so I guess that someone's checking on him, but it's a bit much how we're not being told what's going on with our best mate.)_

_Anyway, I didn't hide Ginny's letter. I don't know if she told you or not, but Mum shoved it away when she was cleaning. I can't control who Ginny dates, I guess I just have to trust her to pick decent sorts._

_Besides, any idiot who tries anything with her doesn't know what he's letting himself in for. And when Ginny finishes with him, then the rest of us will have a go at what's left. Least, that's what Bill reckons, and it's certainly cut down on the arguments this summer. I knew that Corner bloke was no good, but would she listen to me?_

_Anyway, let's not get into that now._

_See you on the fifteenth,_

_Ron

* * *

_

_12th July _

_Hi Dean_

_Sorry about my brothers. They didn't think my last boyfriend was up to very much and if they think someone's taken an interest in me... Ugh. Sorry._

_Anyway, yes, I did say we'd started going out. I just said it to shut Ron up - I think he was trying to fix me up with Harry, can you believe him? - and I thought that if I said I'd started seeing someone else, he'd leave me alone. It didn't occur to me that word would get to the rest of my family and that they'd take it seriously._

_Can I buy you a Butterbeer when we get back to school to apologise?_

_Ginny

* * *

_

_13th July_

_Hi Ron,_

_No, I've not heard from Harry, either. Have you asked your mum and dad if they've heard anything? I suppose they would tell you immediately, but still..._

_Ginny did tell me about the letter, and I'm sorry if I sounded like I was accusing you of meddling. I'm glad you've decided not to get in the way of her and any boy she might like, and I imagine that the reputation yourself and your brothers have will be enough to keep away anyone who'd hurt Ginny deliberately._

_Anyway, I'm looking forward to seeing you, and yes, the fifteenth will be fine. Fred's bike sounds very interesting: They must be earning an awful lot at the new shop to be able to afford things like that already._

_See you on Monday, _

_Hermione_

_P.S. Tell Ginny 'Good luck!'

* * *

_

_14th July _

_Hi Ginny,_

_Sounds good. Maybe I can buy you a Butterbeer as well to say no hard feelings?_

_So, do I have to worry about your brothers, or have you convinced them it was all a joke?_

_Speak to you soon,_

_Dean

* * *

_

_14th July_

_Hermione,_

_Thanks for the Good Luck wish. I'm meeting Dean for a Butterbeer or two once we go back. See how easy it is?_

_I'd love to come and meet up with you, although maybe after tomorrow you and my brother will be busy... Ugh. No, don't tell me. I just had this horrible mental image of you two... Ugh._

_Anyway, Ron wants to add a bit to this so I'd better keep it short. _

_See you soon,_

_Ginny_

_Aren't I good? I didn't turn over the parchment to see what Ginny wrote, despite the big grin she's been sporting since she got another letter earlier on today. Any ideas? Or is that me being as big a gossip as Parvati and Lavender again?_

_Fred bought his bike second-hand off an old wizard whose wife won't let him ride it anymore. Sounds like Mum and Dad in a way. Speaking of them, I have asked if they'd heard anything about Harry, but they say they can't tell me anything other than that he's okay, so... it's hard to be responsible and stuff when he's probably feeling rubbish and, knowing Harry, just making himself feel worse, but what can we do?_

_Anyway, see you tomorrow,_

_Ron

* * *

_

It was a quiet Monday evening at the Burrow. Arthur Weasley was staying late at work while George and Fred had Disapparated after dinner to visit a friend. Ron was visiting Hermione for a few days and Ginny was writing to a school friend.

Molly Weasley felt that it was about the right time for her to put her feet up for a few minutes, read the latest issue of _Witch Weekly_, and have a cup of tea.

She had just finished the lead article - _You Know Who: What The Ministry Isn't Telling Us _- and lamenting the loss of the more frothy stories from the publication when the sound of a throat being cleared in the fireplace nearly made her spill her tea over herself.

"Minerva!" she gasped in surprise.

"Sorry to bother you, Molly," Minerva McGonagall said. The flames in the fireplace painted a fiery picture of someone who wasn't getting enough - or possibly any - sleep, and Molly looked at her in concern.

"Minerva, you don't look well, are you -"

"Later, Molly," McGonagall said sharply. "Are there many of your family at home?"

Molly blinked. "Well, Ginny and I are here. Everyone else is out."

McGonagall sighed. "Ron? Hermione?"

"Ron's visiting Hermione at her grandmother's. Minerva, what's wrong?"

"You'll have to send them an owl. We'll sort everything else out once you get here."

"Get there? You mean Headquarters?"

McGonagall nodded.

"But we're not supposed to go there, I thought, in case, well..."

McGonagall frowned. "Circumstances have changed," she said, bitterly. "I have received a message from Albus asking me to be here at Headquarters. Given the circumstances, I think as many of you as possible should come here as well."

* * *

Ginny was midway through a letter to Dean, frowning as she paused and chewed on her bottom lip. She tapped the feather end of her quill against her knee as she reread the letter up to that point. 

_15th July_

_Dear Dean,_

_I think you'll be fairly safe from my brothers at Hogwarts, especially as Ron's the only one of them around. Still, if you see a horde of redheads descending on you, you might want to run... just to be on the safe side._

_There's no need to buy me a drink as well, but it's very nice, so I won't say no. I suppose it's a bit early to be planning exactly when we'll go, especially as we don't know the dates of the Hogsmeade weekend. Still, it's a bit boring around here today, so forgive me if I ramble a bit. Everyone's gone off, even Ron. He's gone to visit Hermione, which would be good if it meant they were finally going to get together - I take it you lot have noticed the way those two act around each other?_

She dipped the end of her quill into the inkpot and squinted out from the shade of the tree she was sitting under, waiting for inspiration to strike. In her limited experience, early conversations with boys were hardly models of scintillating wit, and she wanted to open up as much as possible to talk about, without overwhelming Dean with a huge roll of parchment. That, she thought, would make her seem too eager.

_And I don't want that. Dean's nice, but lots of boys are nice. Let's see if there's more to him than a cute smile and funny jokes before I get my hopes up._

"Ginny? Ginny? Are you here, dear?"

Ginny craned around the trunk of the tree, looking back down the path towards the Burrow. She waved to Mrs. Weasley, who started up the path. As she grew nearer, Ginny noticed the worried expression on her face, and stood up to greet her.

"Mum? What's wrong?"

"Ginny, dear, I'm sorry, but you have to get some of your things together."

"What? Why? Are we -"

Molly cut her daughter short. "We're not in any danger, dear. We have to go to Headquarters, that's all."

"Headquarters? But, Mum, I thought we weren't going there in case Harry wanted to leave the Dursleys? Professor Dumbledore didn't want him having to go to Sirius' house."

"Circumstances have changed, dear. Now come on, we have to get packed."

Molly began to hurry back down the path, and Ginny scrambled for her things before charging after her.

"Circumstances have changed? What does that mean? _What_ circumstances?"

Molly stopped suddenly, her slippers sending up a cloud of dust.

"Circumstances have changed, dear, because Harry has threatened to curse Mundungus Fletcher unless he takes him to headquarters as soon as possible."

Ginny rocked back on her heels, and Molly smiled a grim smile.

"Now, shall we get a move on? We'll need to send an owl to Ron and Hermione before we leave..."

She bustled off and after a short pause Ginny dashed after her.

_To be continued..._


	2. Chapter One: Summer At Privet Drive

**The Knights Of Walpurgis**

_(Author's Note: Thanks to MissK and Pooca for beta-reading. This chapter is fairly heavy in exposition and recapping, and I'm reliably informed that it's a bit dull. Sorry about that :-) Things should pick up a bit after this, I hope.)_

**_Chapter One: Summer At Privet Drive_**

Harry Potter awoke with a start, his hand scrabbling in the darkness for his wand. His chest heaved under the holey t-shirt he wore to bed, and he squinted into the blurry gloom around him.

After ten seconds in which nothing moved, he lowered his wand and picked up his glasses from the bedside cabinet. Slipping them on, he wiped his hand across his forehead, grimacing with displeasure at the sweat he wiped off.

He had been dreaming again, the same jumbled dream that he'd been having since shortly after arriving back at Number Four, Privet Drive a few weeks before. The dreams were the source of the sweat, rather than the heat of the summer that, so far, had been rather mild. The scorching temperatures of the previous summer had yet to make an appearance and Harry's Uncle Vernon, who loved to complain, had grumbled the previous morning about the lack of sunshine. The summer before, Harry remembered, Uncle Vernon had moaned about hosepipe bans and the scarcity of electric fans in the shops.

Harry settled back on his bed, the clammy, sweaty sheets feeling unpleasant against his skin, but at least granting him a momentary coolness. He glanced over at his alarm clock, which read twenty-three minutes past five, and sighed. In a little over an hour, Uncle Vernon would get up, go to the toilet, bang on Harry's door, and go back to sleep for another hour. Harry, however, would be expected to get up, make breakfast for the Dursleys and have Uncle Vernon's lunch already packed for work.

If Harry was lucky, a member of the Order of the Phoenix might tap discreetly on the back door and let him know if there had been any developments that night in the war against Voldemort and his followers. Harry wondered upon the fact that news of murders and attacks were nearly the highlight of his day.

Generally, though, he was able to escape from the Dursleys after breakfast and return to his room until lunchtime, when he was expected to prepare food for himself, his cousin Dudley and his Aunt Petunia. After that, he was free for most of the rest of the afternoon. Aunt Petunia didn't trust him to make dinner, in case he did something to the food that upset Uncle Vernon. Mad-Eye Moody had threatened the Dursleys with punishment if he thought that they were mistreating Harry but Harry didn't trust Uncle Vernon's self control. The Dursleys had made an effort to be a little more civil to Harry than usual, but he found it extremely unnerving and wherever possible avoided contact with them.

The only other part of the holiday that distracted Harry from the maudlin thoughts that had threatened to overwhelm him since the trip to the Ministry was his evening trip to the playground on Magnolia Road. After dinner, Harry would leave the house and make his way to the playground where he would spend the evening with Remus Lupin, his former Defence Against The Dark Arts teacher. The two would talk until well after dark. Harry learnt a lot of things that he had never known and, in many cases, never really thought about.

Remus and Harry talked a lot about Sirius. Sirius Black had been Harry's godfather and a school friend of Harry's parents and Remus. He had died only a few weeks before, killed in a battle with his cousin, Bellatrix Lestrange, when he had been trying to rescue Harry from a trap set by the dark wizard Voldemort.

They had talked about Voldemort. Harry had learned after the battle in the Ministry that a prophecy had been made before he was born that said that only he could defeat Voldemort. The most powerful Dark Wizard in centuries, Voldemort had returned to power the year before, and had been manipulating Harry's mind throughout the previous school year, resulting in Harry leading his friends to the Department of Mysteries, and ultimately into the battle in which Sirius had been killed.

Harry steered clear of mentioning this prophecy to Lupin. Lupin, however, seemed to guess what Harry was thinking, and much of their time was spent going over Harry's magical fighting techniques. While Harry could not yet use magic outside of school, Lupin was quick to help him with any questions he had, and had a ready supply of books on how to fight the Dark Arts. The work had spilled over into Harry's subjects, and he had taken to losing himself in his Transfiguration notes or his Charms textbook when the memories of the last few weeks threatened to overwhelm him. Lupin had encouraged him in this, and Harry had found that it helped to keep himself busy, although he still didn't feel as though he would ever really understand Potions.

Harry lay in bed this morning, staring at his clock, remembering that he had fallen asleep midway through a chapter on battles between two large forces. He wondered if that had been responsible for his having the dream, again. He struggled to remember it.

_Hills, and people, lots of people. Expectation and nervousness..._

Harry strained, but the dream was gone. No more remained of it than had done on any other night he'd had it.

It was, he supposed, at least a change from the dream of Sirius falling through the veil. Watching his godfather's face change from amusement to shock as Lestrange's spell caught him in the chest, and then as he fell backwards, through the veil that hung from the archway.

Sirius had vanished. No body had been found and, according to Lupin, none was likely to be found.

"What goes through that arch stays there," he had told Harry, with a note of finality in his voice that stopped Harry asking anything more. He was sure that Lupin knew what lay beyond the arch, but Harry wouldn't ask. The look on Lupin's face when they had discussed Sirius' death had been enough to cool Harry's desire to find out more, and he suspected that he would have to ask someone else about the archway.

_Luna Lovegood mentioned it,_ he remembered. _She said she heard her mum there._

Harry resolved to talk to Luna when he next saw her. He had felt better after talking to her at the end of the school year, a feeling that had disappeared not long after his return to Privet Drive.

Plucking his glasses from his face, Harry settled back. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand before letting them droop shut. Settling back down, he willed himself to recapture the sleep from which he had awoken too many times since returning from Hogwarts.

This morning, however, he was able to fall asleep quickly, and enjoyed nearly an entire extra hour of rest before Uncle Vernon slapped his bedroom door several times, jolting him awake and halfway out of bed before he was entirely aware of what was happening.

* * *

Harry felt restless as he cooked breakfast for the Dursleys that morning. He smashed a glass without even seeing it, so preoccupied was he, and it wasn't until he stepped on one of the larger pieces that he realised what he had done. He was able to sweep it up before the Dursleys came downstairs, but a part of him felt that it was a bad omen for the day ahead. Even with Hermione's voice in his mind, mocking the idea of omens and portents, Harry still felt jittery as he climbed the stairs to his bedroom. Easing open the door, he slipped inside and shut it quietly. He felt as though even the click of a shutting door would make him jump out of his skin.

"Wotcher Harry!"

Only trained reflexes on the part of Tonks saved her from being hexed off of Harry's bed. A quick "_Expelliarmus!_" disarmed Harry before he could cast a spell and left the green-haired Auror holding two wands and looking at Harry in surprise.

"Blimey, Harry, what was that about?"

"Tonks!" Harry hissed. "What are you doing in my _room_?"

"Er, I missed you earlier. Wanted to give you the latest, so I figured I'd wait up here for you while you were having breakfast." She looked contrite. "Sorry if I made you jump, Harry," she said, offering him his wand.

Harry sat on his bed, and took his wand back. "I'm just feeling a bit jumpy today, Tonks.

Tonks looked concerned. "Any idea why?" she asked.

Harry shook his head. "Did something happen last night? Did Voldemort..." Harry tailed off.

Tonks shrugged. "I haven't heard anything yet, to be honest. I shouldn't think there's any reason for you to feel jumpy, though."

Harry sighed, and scraped his hands back through his hair.

"You feeling alright, Harry?"

"Yeah, just..." he tailed off again.

"I can go, if you want?" Tonks offered. "I can get Remus or someone."

"No, it's... I'm just being stupid," Harry said. "I didn't sleep well last night. 'Spose it's just caught up with me."

"Right," Tonks said, not looking entirely convinced. "Nothing from your scar?" she asked.

"No," Harry said, gingerly touching the lightning-bolt shaped scar that ran across his forehead. "Nothing new. Nothing really since that night."

Tonks nodded in an uncharacteristically sombre manner. She didn't need to ask which night Harry was referring to.

There was silence in the room for a long moment. Hedwig cooed quietly in her cage, fluffing her wings as Harry and Tonks sat still and silent.

"So, nothing happened last night?" Harry asked quietly.

Tonks shook her head again. "Nothing that I've heard about. It's been dead quiet all week, really. Even the _Daily Prophet_ has stopped reporting Death Eater sightings."

"Why do I feel so jumpy, then?" Harry asked, half to himself.

"Can't help you there, Harry," Tonks said. "Unless... well, don't the OWL results come out about now?"

Harry stared at Tonks blankly for a few seconds. "I forgot," he admitted, slowly. "There's been so much going on, I didn't even think about the results."

"I'm surprised Hermione let you forget," Tonks said, grinning. "Last time I heard from her, she was worried she'd failed everything."

Harry poked at a hole in the carpet with the toe of his trainer. "Wouldn't know," he said. "I haven't been writing back to them."

Tonks cocked her head to one side, and to Harry it seemed as though her nose grew slightly longer. "Why not?" she asked.

Harry shrugged. "Just don't want to talk to them," he said. Both Ron and Hermione had mentioned Sirius and the Department of Mysteries in their first letters to him, and he hadn't wanted to spend the summer talking about that subject with them.

He pulled out the drawer on his bedside cabinet and took out the letters from Ron and Hermione. He handed them to Tonks, who glanced at them. "You didn't want to talk to them about Sirius?"

Harry shook his head, silently.

"You can talk to me, if you like Harry. I didn't know Sirius as well as I would have liked, but the old dog was my cousin. I miss him too."

Harry shrugged.

"You're talking to Remus, aren't you?" Tonks asked.

Harry hesitated, then nodded. In fact, while he and Remus had talked about Sirius, they hadn't really discussed Sirius' death, not in terms of the effect it was having on the two of them. Harry wasn't sure why Remus was avoiding the subject, but he was grateful that his former teacher didn't seem eager to discuss the topic.

For Harry, the loss of his godfather was a pain too recent and too great in magnitude to allow him to even begin to come to grips with. A dully throbbing void in Harry's chest was a constant reminder of Sirius' absence, one that sometimes left Harry gasping for breath as the memories overwhelmed him.

At those times, Harry resolved to mention Sirius' death to Remus the next time he saw him. He felt, somehow, that discussing the battle in the Department of Mysteries was the right thing to do, that it would help him feel better, that the hurt would lessen as it had when he had spoken briefly to Luna.

Each time he saw Remus, though, his resolve faltered. The grey-haired, tired looking man appeared more worn then he ever had done. The deep lines that marked his open face seemed to be etched still more deeply. Harry felt as though his former teacher was aging before his eyes. And when Harry tried to introduce the topic of Sirius into the conversation, Remus' face would darken further, before he touched upon a happy memory that he could share with Harry. As Remus recounted a tale of childhood adventure, the lines seemed to disappear and Remus seemed much younger, much happier.

Harry couldn't bring himself to drag Remus away from his memories.

Instead, he listened to the stories, laughing at times. When Remus asked, which was often, Harry would recount his own stories of Sirius, most often the story of the end of Harry's third year at Hogwarts, two years before, when he had helped Sirius escape the clutches of the Ministry of Magic and the Dementors of Azkaban.

This, too, seemed to alleviate Remus' unhappiness, but Harry could never quite manage to make the link between talking about that night and the night six weeks before.

"You want me to hang around, Harry?" Tonks asked. "I don't mind."

Harry shrugged, then looked at her curiously. "Don't you have to be in work, Tonks?"

"Nah, it's okay," she grinned. "Kingsley swung me a bit of time off after I got hurt. This way I can help the Order, and if I should happen to stumble across something the Ministry might be interested in..."

"You can always report it, right," Harry said.

"'Sides, ever since Fudge stepped down, the Ministry's a bit of a dead place to work, anyway. No-one's sure if the new Minister'll declare war on Voldemort or if he'll want us to try and deal with this thing quietly."

Harry nodded, not really listening. The resignation of Cornelius Fudge as Minister of Magic shortly after the school holidays had begun had not surprised Harry.

"Anyway, they reckon they'll announce the new candidates for the job this week," Tonks said.

Harry grunted, and Tonks looked at him with a faint trace of concern on her face.

"Reckon you'll be alright 'til Remus gets here tonight?" she asked, as Harry stared blankly at the wall. "Harry?"

"What?" Harry blinked, as though just realising Tonks was still in the room. "Yeah. Sure. See you later."

Tonks looked as though she were about to say something, then changed her mind and Disapparated with a swish of displaced air that was matched exactly in pitch and duration by the sigh that escaped Harry's lips as he scraped his hands across his face and through his hair.

* * *

The previous summer had been one of stifling dullness. While Hermione and the Weasleys had been assisting the Order of the Phoenix in their war with Voldemort's forces, Harry had been kept in the dark. Albus Dumbledore, leader of the Order and Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, had tried to keep Harry safe by isolating him as much as possible from the wizarding world.

_At least he realised he was wrong about that,_ Harry scowled as he picked at the stodgy food that Aunt Petunia had cooked for dinner that evening. Dudley had been released from his diet after two years of hard exercise and learning to beat people up as the Junior Heavyweight boxing champion of South-East England, and Uncle Vernon had declared that there would be no 'namby-pamby rabbit food' that summer. As a consequence, Dudley had already consumed roughly his own weight in suet, and this evening had eaten, by Harry's estimate, three battered cod and four portions of chips. Dudley's muscular frame was already beginning to show signs of returning to its previously whale-like proportions, and Harry thought that his tight t-shirt was straining more at the stomach than the chest.

But Harry couldn't bring himself to tease Dudley about his weight. For one thing, he suspected that Dudley was still more than strong enough to beat him up. Also, though, Harry hadn't felt like making fun of Dudley since returning to Privet Drive. Aside from thoughts of Sirius' death, one memory stood out brightly from his fifth year at Hogwarts.

In an attempt to protect Harry from the mental assault of the Dark wizard Voldemort, Dumbledore had ordered Professor Snape, the Potions master, to teach him Occlumency. This branch of magic protected the user from telepathic assault, but required concentration and calmness, two things Harry had felt incapable of during the last year. During one failed Occlumency session, he had stumbled across a memory that Snape had stored in a Pensieve. The memory had shown Harry's father, James Potter, and Sirius humiliating Snape when they had been at school together. The memory left a sour taste in Harry's mouth for more than one reason.

He had had to accept that his father had not always been the kind, friendly wizard who smiled up at him from his photo album. Harry had tried, and failed, to reconcile the sneering, bullying teenager who had tormented Severus Snape with the only slighter older man who had married his mother and joined the Order of the Phoenix. It seemed inconceivable to Harry that his father had gone from hexing Snape for fun, to standing side-by-side with him in the fight against Voldemort.

Harry had tried to fathom the mystery for hours at a time, but he felt as confused by it now as he had when he had first viewed the memory weeks before. Whenever he felt unable to think on it anymore, he found his mind wandering to thoughts of Sirius, standing at James Potter's side. This, at least, was less confusing to Harry. Sirius and Snape had hated each other with a passion that had continued to burn well into adulthood. Shortly after the memory Harry had seen, he knew, Sirius had tricked Snape into nearly being killed by the werewolf that Remus Lupin became each full moon. Remus and Sirius had told him that the feud between Snape and them had been entirely a two-way affair, but even allowing for Remus and Peter Pettigrew being merely observers, it still meant that Sirius and Harry's father had spent their time at Hogwarts fighting with Snape.

_Two of them against one of him. No wonder Snape liked the Dark Arts so much. It was probably the only way that he could get his own back on Sirius and my dad_, Harry scowled.

This line of thought had lead to an uncomfortable idea forming in Harry's mind. _Snape's been right all this time about my dad. About him being arrogant, and about how I should thank him for all he's done._

Harry's stomach lurched at the thought of admitting to Snape that he'd been right about Harry's father. He forced himself to think of Remus' and Sirius' reaction to Harry's discovering of the memory. They had treated it like an ordinary scene, which didn't help Harry at all. Still, Harry knew that Remus wasn't the sort of person to condone the bullying that Snape's memory had seemed to portray. Harry was left with a faint hope that the scene merely showed Sirius and James scoring a point against Snape, rather than conducting another ritual humiliation of him. That Snape had apparently been holding his own against the pair until he lost his wand seemed to lend some credibility to this theory.

_But my Dad still went after Snape because he was bored, because he wanted to impress Sirius. Snape didn't do anything to him then..._

Harry sought for something else to think about, something to take his mind off the memory of Sirius and his father, side-by-side, disdainfully bullying a young Severus Snape. As always seemed to happen now when he thought of Sirius, Bellatrix Lestrange came to mind. Lestrange was a Death Eater, one of Voldemort's most loyal followers. Harry had chased after her in the Ministry and she had goaded Harry into using an Unforgivable curse.

Harry remembered her screaming as the spell hit her, remembered the fleeting feeling of victory as she fell to the ground.

He remembered, as she clambered to her feet and he'd realised that the curse hadn't been powerful enough to really hurt her, wishing that he could hurt her even more.

"What's up with you, boy?" Uncle Vernon barked, glaring at Harry from his deep-set, piggy eyes. "Non-magical food not good enough for you, I suppose?"

Harry looked up from his plate. "It's fine," he said, slowly. "I'm just not very hungry right now," he added, not wanting to provoke a confrontation with his uncle. While he knew that Uncle Vernon considered himself bound by Mad-Eye's words to treat Harry properly, Harry had a feeling that Uncle Vernon could lose his temper at any moment.

"You'll eat it, and be thankful," Uncle Vernon snapped. "I'm not having you tell those freak friends of yours that we're not feeding you."

"They're not freaks," Harry muttered, feeling strangely relieved that Uncle Vernon seemed to be reverting to his usually horrible personality. Harry had been wondering how long Mr. Dursley would be able to cope with being nice. Much longer, he suspected, and the resultant return to normality would have involved more than a few comments about Harry's 'freak' friends.

He poked listlessly at the dumplings that seemed to take up half the plate, feeling sure that they were expanding as they soaked up the gravy with which his plate was awash. Harry wasn't used to such heavy meals, even at Hogwarts, and after several weeks of life at Privet Drive, he was beginning to feel ill at the slightest thought of Aunt Petunia's stodgy dinners. He thought longingly of the Great Hall at Hogwarts, where bowls of salad often went untouched at meal times, but were always available if a student wanted a lighter option. He wondered briefly if Dobby and the other house-elves were offended when their salads weren't eaten, or when the great mounds of swede, parsnips and sprouts that accompanied every meal were all but ignored by the students.

The image of Dobby shifted in Harry's mind, and instead of the ever-helpful Hogwarts house elf, Harry found himself thinking of Kreacher, the house elf who had served the Black family for decades, before betraying Sirius to the Malfoys.

_It's Kreacher's fault,_ Harry thought, prodding the shriveled potatoes that had, at the start of the meal, been plump and floury. He sighed.

_Dumbledore said Sirius should have treated Kreacher better,_ Harry thought. He scowled again. The traitorous thought had just appeared in his mind, in the same way that similarly traitorous thoughts regarding Sirius, James and Snape had appeared over the summer. Harry had wondered whether there had been some lasting damage caused by Voldemort's repeated invasions of his mind over the last year, something that made him think badly of the people around him despite his best effort otherwise, but he had eventually come to the conclusion that there wasn't.

_I'm just seeing both sides of the story,_ he thought. _Sirius and my dad weren't perfect, Snape wasn't always an evil git, Kreacher might not have betrayed us if Sirius had been a bit nicer to him._

_No, he would have,_ Harry thought, scowling so ferociously that Dudley pushed his chair back from the table and began eating his food at arms length. _Kreacher was nasty, just plain nasty. He didn't like Hermione, and she tried to treat him with kindness._

Harry exhaled heavily as the flaw in his logic stood proudly to attention. _Hermione's a Muggle-born, though. Kreacher wouldn't respect her if she was made Minister of Magic._

"What?"

Harry looked up into Uncle Vernon's beefy red face. He was looking at Harry as though he expected him to explode, or turn into a giant spider, or something like that.

"I'm sorry?" Harry asked, trying to be polite.

"You're sitting there, not eating, huffing and pulling faces like you're ill. I'm telling you, boy, I know that _those people_ are watching us, well, I'm not having it."

Uncle Vernon stood up, and began to speak in a loud, clear voice.

"Do you hear me? We've given the boy food. We've treated him properly. We'll not have it said that we've done anything to him. If he gets sick, it's his own fault. Look at Dudley, he's a healthy boy, not pulling faces and sighing all over the place -"

Dudley, for his part, was looking at his father as though Mr. Dursley had gone completely insane. Aunt Petunia, meanwhile, was peering into the corners of the room, and it took Harry a few seconds to realise that she was looking for whatever she thought was being used by Mad-Eye and the Order to monitor them.

"-d'you hear me?" Uncle Vernon went on. "We're not to blame if he's got something wrong with him. Well, of course he has something wrong with him, but it's nothing to do with us, do you understand? The boy's abnormal, but that's your fault, not ours!"

Harry watched in amazement as Uncle Vernon paced the kitchen, ranting at the washing machine, barking at the fruit bowl. He remembered how paranoid Uncle Vernon had become five years before, when Harry's Hogwarts letters had followed them relentlessly all over the country, and wondered if Uncle Vernon was about to try and drag them away to some distant island off the coast again. Harry had a feeling that Mad-Eye might consider that to be mistreatment, and wondered if Uncle Vernon had considered this.

But Uncle Vernon seemed content with ranting at whoever it was that he thought was listening. Harry wondered briefly whether anyone _might_ be monitoring Privet Drive that closely, but decided against it.

_If Moody heard Uncle Vernon going on like this, he'd be in here before you could say 'Constant vigilance!''_

Uncle Vernon seemed to be winding down, and Harry took the opportunity to get up from the table and scrape the remains of his dinner into the bin. He put his plate into the sink and tried to sneak past Mr. Dursley, whose face had turned a faintly alarming shade of purple, but he was stopped by a meaty hand dropping heavily down on his collarbone. Harry staggered slightly, before looking up into Uncle Vernon's twitching, damson-tinted face.

"And where do you think you're going, boy?"

"Er, upstairs, Uncle Vernon," Harry said. "I've got homework to do."

"Why not have the night off?" Mr. Dursley asked, his hand squeezing Harry's shoulder in a way that was starting to hurt. "Come and watch the television with us, like a real-" Harry watched in amazement as Uncle Vernon swallowed, with difficulty. "Like a real family."

Harry couldn't even begin to hide his astonishment. Beside him, Dudley, who had been trying to shuffle away from Harry without being noticed, toppled off his chair with a loud crash.

Mr. Dursley didn't notice. Instead, he continued to gaze down at Harry in a manner that Harry could only describe as forced fondness.

"So, what do you say...?" Mr. Dursley swallowed again. Harry thought he looked like a bull trying to swallow an ostrich egg. "Harry?"

Harry blinked several times in surprise. Hardly ever in the nearly fifteen years that Harry had been living at Privet Drive, could he remember his Uncle ever addressing him by name in such a, well, _friendly_ manner. It had always been "You," or "Boy." Occasionally, he had referred to him by his full name ("HARRY POTTER!!") but only when he was particularly angry with him. Whenever Mr. Dursley adopted the friendly, wheedling tone he was now using, Harry knew that we was about to be treated like a small child, given a small treat in exchange for a big favour, usually his silence.

"Good," Mr. Dursley said, clearly taking Harry's lack of response for agreement and sweeping him out of the kitchen and towards the living room. "Get up, Dudley, and do the washing up," he said to his son on the way past. Harry's last sight of the kitchen was an astonished looking Dudley lying prone on the floor, goggling after his father in undisguised shock. Harry wondered if his own face looked anything like that. It certainly felt that way.

Five minutes later, Harry was settled on the sofa in the living room, with Mr. Dursley alternating between watching his favourite programme on cars, and shooting great beaming smiles at Harry. Harry, for his part, was beginning to settle down, having been sat on the edge of his seat for those five minutes, expecting an attack or a fresh rant from Uncle Vernon at any moment.

_He's lost it,_ Harry thought, risking a glance at Mr. Dursley as he pretended to understand what the presenter was saying about the latest imported car from Germany. To make matters worse, Aunt Petunia was sat beside her husband and mimicking his every move. Harry felt almost as though he was in a cage at the zoo, being grinned at by two horrible children. He couldn't quite understand what Uncle Vernon was thinking, having him in the living room while Dudley clattered loudly in the kitchen, breaking plates every minute or so in protest at having to do the washing up.

_I mean, he's gone mad. But why do I have to suffer as well? All I want to do is go and do my homework, and then I can sneak out later on to talk to Remus._

Harry sat quietly, watching the programme and waiting for his chance to escape. But when the car programme ended, Aunt Petunia leapt to her feet and offered to make tea. Harry spent the next half an hour watching a dreary programme about do-it-yourself, while his tea went from scaldingly hot to undrinkably cold without passing through any stage in between. When the programme ended, Harry jumped up and was halfway up the stairs before the Dursleys had any chance to react.

Harry burst into his room, slamming the door behind him and looking frantically about. He relaxed. Here, at least, he was safe.

A knock on the door made Harry leap a foot into the air.

"Harry, dear, would you like some dessert?" Aunt Petunia trilled through the door.

"Ah, no thank you Aunt Petunia," Harry said, his heart pounding in his chest.

Harry could faintly hear a whispered conversation taking place outside his bedroom door.

"Well, I'll bring you some up anyway," Aunt Petunia said, eventually. Harry heard two sets of feet walking away from the door. He looked at his watch. It was past time for him to meet with Remus, and he definitely felt the need to see a genuinely friendly face

He ran across his room to the bedroom window, and flung it open. Swinging himself up and onto the sill, he placed one foot on a bracket that Mr. Dursley had installed to hold the bars used to keep Harry prisoner in the summer before his second year. Taking a deep breath, Harry wrapped the ends of his too-baggy jumper's long sleeves around his hands and swung himself out of the window, grabbing hold of the ivy which Aunt Petunia had grown up the side of the house. For once, he was grateful to be wearing Dudley's cast-off old clothes as the thick material protected his hands from scratching by the plant or the rough brickwork.

As he was about to drop out of sight of his window, the door opened. Harry paused to watch Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia enter the room and look around in amazement. He ducked quickly, and swiftly climbed down the thick ivy, trusting that it would support his meager weight. Heavy though Aunt Petunia's meals were, he hadn't actually eaten very much of them and he certainly hadn't put on any weight since the start of the summer.

He reached the ground, and glanced up just in time to see Uncle Vernon leaning over the windowsill and staring down at him with a look of undisguised surprise on his face that was rapidly turning to one of hatred.

"What - Where -" he spluttered.

"I'll be back in a bit," Harry called up. "Just going to see Professor Lupin. You met him at Kings Cross, remember?"

Harry had to admit that there was a degree of satisfaction to be had in dropping the names of wizards into conversation with Uncle Vernon. The beefy man quailed like a frightened child when reminded of his Moody-induced obligation to treat Harry properly.

"Well... Don't stay out too late, okay?"

Harry smirked. "I won't. I'll be back at the usual time."

He turned away before Mr. Dursley could reply to this. He wasn't even sure that the Dursleys had noticed his leaving the house each evening since arriving back at the Burrow, and wasn't in the mood to discuss exactly when the 'usual time' was. On several occasions, it had been well after midnight.

As he walked along Privet Drive, Harry remembered the uprising of happiness that he had felt when leaving Kings Cross weeks before. The feeling had been linked to the appearance of so many people who genuinely cared for him. Not just the Weasleys and Hermione, but Moody, Lupin, Tonks and Kingsley and, by extension, the whole Order as well. The feeling had sustained him through the start of the holidays, but it had gradually diminished. He had received letters from Ron and Hermione at the start of the holidays, but when he sat down to reply, he wasn't sure what to say to them.

_They don't want to hear me go on about Sirius, and there's nothing interesting going on here. I'm sure Remus is letting them know I'm okay, so why waste their time?_

He kicked a stone aimlessly along the road as he made his way into Magnolia Crescent, and then across to Magnolia Road. He barely even paused now, vaulting across the locked park gate with an ease born of long practice, his eyes scanning the park for wherever it was Remus was sitting that evening.

His old Professor had turned this part of their meeting into something of a challenge. If he arrived before Harry, he would pick a new part of the park to sit in to test Harry's ability to spot new details. It wasn't much - Lupin was a tall if skinny man and so was rather hard to miss - but Harry felt that the little challenge was Lupin's way of telling Harry to stay vigilant.

This night, though, Harry had no trouble whatsoever in spotting Lupin.

Or rather, in spotting where Lupin wasn't. He wasn't there.

Sitting right by the gate, though, was another adult wizard who Harry recognised immediately.

"'Sup, Harry?"

"Dung? What are you doing here?"

Mundungus Fletcher coughed around his pipe, and grinned up at Harry from inside the collar of his great overcoat.

"Remus asked me to come down and see you," he said. "Says 'e's dead sorry 'e can't make it tonight. Wanted me to come and apologise. So, sorry."

"Why couldn't he make it?" Harry asked.

Dung shifted in his seat.

"Well, he got caught up with business, right? You know 'ow it works, 'Arry. Can't tell you much."

"Well, what can you tell me, Dung? What was Remus doing?"

"I can't tell you that, Harry."

"Where was he?"

"I can't tell you that, neither."

"Was there an attack? Come on Dung, it'll be in the _Prophet_ tomorrow if there was."

"Yeah, yeah, alright. I guess I can tell you that, at least. Blimey, 'Arry. You don't give a bloke much chance, do you?"

"Dung, just tell me, will you?"

"Alright, alright, I'm gettin' there, aint I? Blimey!"

"Dung!"

"Alright, I said! Look, yeah, there was an attack. A pretty big one."

Harry felt as thought the bottom had dropped out of his stomach.

"Where?" he asked, his voice catching in his throat.

"Birmingham. Nowhere close," Dung added, hurriedly.

"They attacked a _city_?"

"Not all of it, obviously," Dung said, shifting uneasily under Harry's gaze. "They smashed up a bunch of houses. No one got killed, apparently. Anyway, the Order got alerted and Remus had to go."

"On his own?"

"Nah, 'course not. Loads of people went."

"Loads?"

"Well, that Shacklebolt got in touch with his Aurors and a bunch of them showed up as well."

"What happened?" Harry asked, wishing that Dung would just tell the whole story and not keep pausing. Each time he did so, he looked at Harry in a way that made Harry's skin crawl. He had a horrible feeling that Fletcher was building up to something.

"So was there a fight, then?" Harry persisted.

"Not really. Most of the Death Eaters scarpered as soon as our lot showed up. A few stuck it out, though. They wanted to show off, I reckon. So there was a bit of dueling."

"They dueled?"

"Yeah. Remus went after one, that Lestrange bloke, least that's what I hear."

"What happened?" Harry asked, dreading the reply.

Fletcher shifted in his seat again. Though it was difficult to tell under his heavy greatcoat, it looked as though the older man was squirming. Harry remembered the previous summer, when Molly Weasley had glared at Mundungus when the unrepentant crook had brought some stolen cauldrons into the Order's headquarters. He had reacted in much the same way then as he was now.

"Dung!" Harry snapped, planting his hands on either side of Mundungus' head and leaning forward so his eyes were only a few inches from Mundungus' eyes. "Tell me what's wrong! Did Remus get hurt?"

Mundungus looked up at Harry, a very panicked look on his face. Harry was reminded fleetingly of Neville Longbottom, standing up to Draco Malfoy despite being scared stiff.

"Is Remus hurt?" Harry snarled.

Slowly, Mundungus nodded.

Harry closed his eyes, and felt the bloom of anger inside him be snuffed out as surely as a flame doused by water. His shoulders dropped, and his knees felt weak. He just managed to avoid collapsing into Mundungus' lap, instead swiveling to drop onto the bench beside him.

"Badly?" he whispered.

"I dunno," Mundungus said, his voice sounding a little shaky. "I know he's been taken to St. Mungo's. Listen, 'Arry, I should -"

"Take me to him, Dung," Harry said.

"What? No, I can't! Dumbledore'd kill me." He got up, and walked away from the bench. "Our orders are to make sure you stay here, 'Arry. Not for much longer. You can go to see Molly and her kids or something soon, but you've gotta stay here. That's Dumbledore's orders."

"I don't care about Dumbledore's orders!" Harry yelled, leaping from his seat. "Besides," he added, his voice shaking. "Dumbledore isn't here. You're going to take me to London, Dung. We're going to go and see Remus. I lost Sirius, I lost my parents. I'm not losing him as well."

"Harry," Dung began, backing away and raising his hands. "Dumbledore-"

"I told you, Dung," Harry said, pulling his wand from his pocket and pointing it at Mundungus. "I don't care about Dumbledore. Now, you're going to find a way to get me to London, tonight, so I can go and see Remus. Either that, or I'm going to hex you so hard that you're going to wish Mrs. Figg was back here, bashing you over the head with her bag of cat food. Then I'll hop on the Knight Bus and see Remus anyway. Do you understand me, Dung?"

Mundungus, shaking a little, looked at Harry. He nodded.

_To be continued..._


	3. CHapter Two: Number Twelve, Grimmauld Pl...

_**Chapter Two: Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place**_

_(Author's Note: Thanks to MissK and Pooca for betaing)_

Harry had gone back to Privet Drive and collected his things together, piling them haphazardly into his trunk, while trying to ignore the gnawing feeling in his stomach whenever he thought of Remus, lying injured in St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries.

_Not Remus too,_ he seethed as he tugged at a sock that had become trapped on the loose floorboard under the bed. With a yank, it came free, ripping as it did so, but Harry barely noticed. He flung it into the trunk and moved the loose board out of the way, delving into the hole beneath for anything he might have left there. His fingers closed on something cool and sharp, and he hissed as he felt the edge slice across the tip of his finger.

He sat up, sucking on the cut and pulling the sharp object from the hole. He knew what it was, but his stomach still sank even further as he saw it for the first time since his return to Privet Drive.

It appeared, at first glance, to be a shattered mirror. In fact, it had been a magical mirror that Sirius had given him if he ever wanted to talk. Harry hadn't used it, hadn't even _known_ about it, the month before when he had made his trip to the Ministry, but it didn't stop the mocking feeling he felt when he looked at it.

_If I'd just thought, instead of going off half-cocked..._

Harry sank back on his haunches, a drop of blood falling from his cut finger onto the shattered glass of the mirror.

Sighing, he placed the mirror in his trunk, and looked around again. He didn't seem to be missing anything. He checked his wardrobe once more, but it was empty. He had clothes, the little bit of money in his bag, his wand, his broom - although he wasn't sure if his lifetime ban from Quidditch was still in place or not - and all his textbooks. With all the free time he'd had on his hands over the summer, he'd taken to going over all the subjects he'd studied since his first year. It had proven to be a useful revision tool, as well as a way of blocking out Dudley's complaints about having to do the jobs that Harry had previously been forced into doing.

There was a thumping on the door, and Harry looked up. Mundungus had arrived, it seemed. He wasn't sure exactly how they would be traveling to London, or where they would be going, but going they were.

He heard heavy footsteps on the stairs, and there was a sharp rap on the door. He got to his feet and opened the door to find Uncle Vernon the other side, glaring up at him.

"Someone for you downstairs" he said, shortly.

"Right" Harry said. "I'll be off then. See you next summer."

"You're going" Mr. Dursley asked, surprise evident.

"Yeah. I have to go see someone, and I don't know if I'll be coming back."

"Right" Mr. Dursley said, sounding unsure. "And, er, they know about this, do they"

"I'm sure that Moody will hear about it, sooner or later" Harry said. He noticed the twitch in his uncle's eye and added "It might be later, rather than sooner. I'm sure you won't mind if he shows up here, will you? You can explain how I've gone off with my friend Mundungus and I'm not sure if I'll be back."

Harry turned away and shut his trunk, smiling a small smile as he listened to his uncle sputtering in the background. He picked up one end of his trunk and, taking Hedwig's cage in his other hand, pulled the trunk out of his room, past his uncle and down the stairs. It was tempting to push his uncle even further over the edge, but he restrained himself.

_My dad would have done it,_ he thought for a moment, as he heaved his trunk around the turn at the bottom of the stairs and stood panting in front of Mundungus and, Harry was only slightly surprised to realise, Mrs. Figg.

"Ready to go, then, 'Arry" Mundungus said, sounding very subdued. Harry thought he saw the beginnings of a bruise on Mundungus' forehead, and Mrs. Figg was looking very angry. Harry met her glare with a steady, even gaze and nodded.

"I am. Let's go."

Mundungus took the other end of Harry's trunk, and they walked down Privet Drive, a most unusual trio. Harry didn't look back.

* * *

Ten minutes later, they were standing before Mrs. Figg's fireplace, where a roaring fire was burning brightly in the grate. Harry was sweating, his baggy, hand-me-down t-shirt clinging to him as the heat of the stuffy room made him gasp slightly.

"You first, then, Mundungus" Mrs. Figg snapped.

Mundungus shuffled sheepishly up to the fire and tossed in a pinch of Floo Powder. Green flames leapt up to head height and Mundungus stepped into them, said "Twelve, Grimmauld Place" and was gone.

Mrs. Figg smiled nastily at the look of surprise on Harry's face.

"Where did you think you were going, Harry" she said. "If you want to go to St. Mungo's so badly, you'll have to stop off at Headquarters along the way. It's the way things have to be."

"But"

"But what? I thought you would have learned to be a little bit smarter, lad" Mrs. Figg snapped, glaring at him the way she sometimes glared at a cat who didn't bother to use its litter box. "Bad enough we're chasing around following every rumour of Death Eater activity, bad enough we lost Sirius and now someone else has to watch over Headquarters all the time"

Mrs. Figg stopped, for once again Harry had drawn his wand. He wasn't pointing it at her, but it was in his hand, and the gaze which he fixed upon her said quite clearly that there was only a second between its current neutral direction and a far more threatening angle.

"You didn't lose Sirius" he said. "Sirius was taken from _me_. He was killed, and I didn't stop the murderer. And if you think I give a damn about the Order, or Dumbledore, or anything right now, then you're wrong, d'you understand me"

He stuck his wand back in his pocket.

"Get out of the way, Mrs. Figg. I'm going to see Remus."

Hauling Hedwig and his trunk along with him, he took a pinch of Floo Powder and threw it into the flames. As the flames roared green once more, he stepped into them and roared "Twelve, Grimmauld Place."

* * *

"Harry"

For once, Harry didn't stumble as he landed at the other end of a Floo journey. He came to rest in the kitchen of Sirius' family home, and at once recognised Mrs. Weasley, Ginny and Professor McGonagall arrayed in front of him. Mundungus was sitting moodily by the kitchen table, looking as though he'd received another telling off to add to the one Mrs. Figg had evidently given him.

Harry shoved his trunk out of the fireplace, feeling the last of the flames flicker out at his feet as it toppled onto the bare flagstones with a loud crash. Ginny winced as he stepped off the grate and fixed McGonagall with the same stare that he had used on Mrs. Figg.

The head of Gryffindor house met Harry's gaze evenly.

"Where is he" Harry asked.

"Remus has been taken to St. Mungo's, as you know" McGonagall said.

"I want to see him."

"You can see him tomorrow morning. Visiting hours are long since over, and in any case, he may not be able to have visitors right now."

"Do you really think that anyone is going to stop me from doing anything I want, given what everyone's been reading about these last few weeks" Harry said hotly. Since the confirmation in the _Daily Prophet_ that Voldemort had returned, Harry had noticed that most editions of the paper seemed to refer to him in favourable terms, whether or not there was any reason to. For the first time in his life, Harry felt a flickering appreciation of his famed status as The Boy Who Lived.

"I can't speak for anyone else, Mr. Potter, but I certainly will" McGonagall snapped. "Stop acting like a petulant child."

"We're not at school now" Harry hissed. "You can't stop me going to see Remus."

McGonagall fixed Harry with a level gaze. "Don't be foolish, Potter" she snapped. "I can certainly stop you moving so much as one centimetre, should I so wish."

"Minerva" Mrs. Weasley pushed her way in between Harry and his Head of House. "Please"

Harry and McGonagall glared at one another.

"Harry, we're concerned about you, and we're not going to let you run off on your own, do you understand me" Mrs. Weasley said, struggling to stay calm.

"I understand that you're trying to stop me seeing Remus" Harry said. "No one even wants to tell me how badly he's hurt"

"Badly, but not critically" McGonagall gritted out. "He will make a full recovery, but cannot receive visitors at the moment, and that includes yourself, Potter."

Harry glared at her, but refrained from making any comments.

"Harry, we're all rather on edge here. No one is trying to keep you from seeing Remus, but if the doctors say he can't have visitors now, then there's nothing we can do" Molly said. "I felt terrible when Arthur was in the hospital last year, but sometimes you have to wait."

Harry sighed, and ran a hand through his hair. He felt the anger that had driven him through the last hour suddenly fade away.

"Yeah, all right" he said, feeling very tired. "I should get some sleep, then. I want to be at St. Mungo's first thing tomorrow."

"Of course" McGonagall said, looking a lot less fierce now, but looking very tired in its place, Harry noticed. "I'll take you myself."

Harry nodded, and looked around.

"Are you hungry, dear? Can I get you a drink or anything" Mrs. Weasley asked.

"No, no, I'm fine" Harry said. "Just tired is all."

"You can have your old room, if you want" Molly suggested.

"Yeah" Harry said, dully, feeling his eyelids droop. He shook his head, and looked up. "I mean, thanks. I'll take my trunk up now."

"Harry" McGonagall said, as he went to pick up his trunk. "You can't stay here, you know. You have to go back home tomorrow, after you've seen Remus."

Harry looked at her, trying to find the words he needed.

"I am home" he said eventually, his trunk scraping on the flagstones as he dragged it from the kitchen.

* * *

Ginny caught up with him as he approached the front door, the portrait of Mrs. Black hanging silently behind its curtain to his right as the trunk scuffed across the carpet.

"Want a hand" she asked.

"Yeah, sure" he said, as she took the handle at the other end. Together, they carried the trunk to the foot of the stairs.

"Harry" Ginny asked, as he set his foot on the first stair.

"Yeah"

"Did you mean that? That this is home"

Harry paused, turning the question over his mind. "I... Yeah, I guess so. I mean, I like coming to stay at the Burrow, but this is Sirius' house, and that makes it feel right. I always feel like a guest at yours, you know"

"Oh" Ginny said. "You know that we don't think of you like that? You're not just Ron's friend, Harry. Not anymore."

Harry shrugged, and began to lead the way up the stairs. He didn't want to think about it. He wasn't sure why the musty old house had such a tight hold on him. He hadn't even realised it until McGonagall had mentioned his returning to the Dursleys. But it didn't take much effort for him to realise what was so special about the house. Sirius had lived here, and Sirius had protected Harry. He felt safe here, even if Sirius...

_He isn't here. It's only safe because Dumbledore is the Order's Secret Keeper. And Dumbledore said that Privet Drive is safe, because of the protection from my Mum. But Voldemort has that protection, doesn't he? What's stopping him just walking up to the Dursleys and killing them? Then he could kill me, and I couldn't do a thing about it. Well, I could try and defend myself, and I'd get an owl from Mafalda Hopkirk about using magic during the holidays, and then I'd get expelled again. _

Harry shook his head as he and Ginny carried his trunk up the stairs.

_Dumbledore said that Aunt Petunia's blood keeps me safe. I wonder if Uncle Vernon knows that. Dumbledore said that so long as I call Privet Drive home, I'm safe. But it's not home. Hogwarts is home, this house is home. Does that mean that I'm not safe at Privet Drive?_

The trunk bumped against the floor as Ginny set her end down, and Harry realised that they were outside the door to the room he had shared with Ron. He thought, briefly, of sending a letter to Dumbledore, but the idea made him feel slightly ill. He hadn't spoken to his headmaster since the night of the battle in the Department of Mysteries.

"Harry? Are you okay" Ginny asked, coming around in front of him. He focused on her face, happy to be rid of thoughts of Dumbledore and Voldemort.

"I'm fine" he said. "How are you"

Ginny grinned, her eyes sparkling in the meager light. "I'm fine as well. Shall I help you get your trunk into your room"

"Yeah, okay" Harry said. The two teenagers set the trunk on one of the beds, and Harry fell back onto the other.

"Will you be okay" Ginny asked, standing by the door.

"Of course" Harry said, staring at the ceiling. "No. I... Ginny, what's been going on this summer"

"What do you mean"

"I mean, just, stuff" he said, looking up at her. "I don't want to think about the war, or Voldemort, or Sirius or anything. Can you tell me what's going on in your life? And Ron's? And everyone else's"

"Things must be bad if hearing about my life is going to cheer you up" she grinned. He smiled, and made room for her to sit on the bed as well.

"Well" she said, making herself comfortable. "Ron's off visiting Hermione at the moment. He went off this morning, him and Fred on Fred's flying motorbike"

"Fred has a flying motorbike" Harry asked.

"Yeah, he's mad about it" Ginny said, rolling her eyes. "Polishes it every day, takes it everywhere. I swear he'd get it into the bedroom if George would let him" she grinned, then looked more serious. "Mum's been busy this summer, too" she said, before looking away.

"The Order" Harry asked. Ginny nodded, and Harry looked away as well. For a moment, there was silence.

"Ron's visiting Hermione? Is she still at her grandmother's"

"Yeah" Ginny said, with a smile that Harry felt was a little too bright to be entirely genuine. "Did you get her letters"

"Er, yeah" Harry said. "I, well..."

This time, Harry looked away first.

_What's wrong with me? Why does every conversation I have always end up being about Voldemort, or the Order? Or Sirius?_

He looked up, and realised that Ginny was staring unblinkingly at him. He met her gaze, and tried to decipher what she was looking at.

"What" he asked.

"Did you talk to _anyone_ this summer" she asked, quietly. He felt trapped by her gaze, unable to look away.

"Of course" he said. "Tonks, and Moody, and Professor Lupin. Dung, too"

"About Sirius" she interrupted. "I know you didn't write to Ron. I suppose you didn't write to Hermione, either"

"So" Harry asked, feeling a flush of anger rising inside him again.

She looked away. "You shouldn't keep it all bottled up" she said, eventually. "You need to talk to someone about what happened. I have. I talked to Ron, and to Bill. Ron talked to me and Charlie. Harry, none of us exactly did the right thing that night, did we? But if we blame ourselves for what happened, then how are we going to cope if it happens again"

She turned to look directly at him, her brown eyes flashing as she pinned him to the bed with her stare.

"Harry, none of us stopped to think that night. We let you walk into Umbridge's office without a second thought, even though one of us should have thought to go to Snape first. Even _Hermione_ didn't remember that, and you and Ron have always said how well she usually keeps her head in a crisis. We spent a lot of time at the end of last term talking about that night. She felt awful, and she wanted to talk to you, but she wouldn't, Harry. She knew that you'd just brush her off, the way you always do."

Harry opened his mouth to reply, to tell Ginny off for daring to speak to him that way.

"I tried to talk to someone" he said, blinking at the sound of the words coming from his mouth. "But I couldn't. Moody and Tonks didn't really know Sirius, and Professor Lupin..." he tailed off. He could tell from looking at Ginny that she understood why he hadn't been able to talk to their old teacher about his best friend's death.

"Talk to me, then" she said. "When you want to. I knew Sirius as well, and if you won't talk to Ron and Hermione, then talk to me. When you want to. OK"

Harry looked at her, trying to find the words to explain why he couldn't talk to her.

_She's not even a friend. She didn't really know Sirius. She doesn't need to hear me whine. She wouldn't understand._

"I..."

_She's faced Voldemort and walked away. She doesn't flinch when I get angry. She lived with Sirius last summer. She knows exactly what a git I can be, and she still wants to talk about this._

"OK" he said.

Ginny smiled slightly, and patted Harry's knee. "I'm going to get some sleep. I'll see you tomorrow"

Harry nodded, and watched her leave.

"My great-great-grandson would be proud of you, I imagine" a rather bored voice announced from the wall. "The lure of emotional distress is often just too much for women to resist."

Without any change in his expression, Harry rose and crossed to the portrait of Phineas Nigellus, former headmaster of Hogwarts and Sirius' great-great-grandfather. He turned it over, ignoring the offended sound from the portrait's subject and left it facing the wall.

Feeling slightly better, he sank onto the bed and into an unsettled sleep where dreams of lonely hilltops mingled with splintered memories of the fight in the Department of Mysteries.

* * *

"Harry"

Harry snapped awake, his wand in hand and pointed at the door before his eyes fully opened. Mrs. Weasley stood in the doorway, eyes wide as she stared down Harry's wand into his surprised face.

"Sorry" he said, quickly lowering his wand.

Mrs. Weasley swallowed, and closed her eyes for a second. "Minerva asked me to wake you" she said. "Visiting hours will begin at ten, and you have to have something to eat before I'll let you leave this house. At least" she sniffed"those relatives of yours have been feeding you this time."

Harry couldn't help but grin as Mrs. Weasley shut the door behind her. For all her experience with Dark Magic and the growing war between the Dark and Light forces, Molly Weasley still believed that the most important thing in the world was to have a good meal inside you. As he made his own way downstairs and found a huge breakfast of bacon, sausages, three kinds of eggs, toast, fried bread, beans, tomatoes, hash browns and black pudding waiting for him, he decided he wasn't about to argue with her.

After breakfast, McGonagall appeared, clad in the same Muggle dress and coat that she had worn the previous summer when visiting Grimmauld Place and looking as uncomfortable in them as she had then.

"Well, come along, Potter" she said. Her expression had softened slightly since the previous night but she still didn't look happy about taking Harry out in public.

"Are we taking the Underground" Harry asked. McGonagall nodded once, sharply, before heading for the front door. Harry trailed after her, steering clear of Mrs. Black's portrait on the way past.

McGonagall stood at the door, one hand on the handle.

"Harry, you could just trust us that Remus will be okay" she said, her voice not possessing its usually brisk, businesslike tone.

"I have to see him" Harry said, not wanting to offend his teacher, but not wanting to be talked out of the trip to the hospital either. "He's... He's my friend, Professor."

McGonagall nodded, her eyes downcast as she opened the door and ushered Harry out into the London sunshine.

The trip across London was uneventful, other than the baking heat of the packed Underground carriage. Harry squeezed himself into a corner and braced himself against the wall while McGonagall, much to her surprise, was offered a seat by a young man not much older than Harry. They got off at the nearest stop to St. Mungo's and made their way through the streets to the abandoned storefront that masked the entrance to the wizarding hospital. McGonagall explained the purpose of their visit to one of the mannequins that stood in the shop window, and it moved aside to let them pass through the window and into the hospital beyond.

As always, the reception area of the hospital was crowded. A small child was bouncing upside down on her head while her father patted the soles of her feet like a basketball; a middle-aged witch, who was trying to keep her face hidden, was trying to explain the presence of the scaly tail which was poking from under the hem of her robes, and a white-haired wizard was proclaiming loudly to anyone who would listen that his new potion was going to revolutionise the pest control industry, as soon as he dealt with the side-effect that made the user's hair sprout all over his body.

"A teaspoonful of shredded cabbage would sort that out" McGonagall muttered, as they took their place in the queue. "Severus discovered that several years ago."

"Professor Snape looked like that" Harry asked, grinning at the thought of his Potions professor entirely covered in his long, greasy black hair.

"Actually, it was Professor Sprout who tested the potion for him" McGonagall said. "Yes, we're here to see Remus Lupin"

"Fourth floor, Malfoy ward" the bored looking receptionist said. Harry gave a start at the word 'Malfoy' but remembered Cornelius Fudge saying once that Lucius Malfoy, who had been arrested for his role as a Death Eater in the Department of Mysteries, had donated a great deal of money to St. Mungo's. Harry supposed it was Lucius' idea of a joke that his money would be used to build a ward to help those who the Death Eaters would be hexing and cursing.

They made their way in silence up the stairs to the fourth floor. Opening the door, they were greeted with chaos as mediwizards, nurses and healers dashed back and forth. There were cries for assistance from all directions, and McGonagall and Harry had to jump out of the way as a trio of mediwizards charged from one room to the next, answering the frantic calls of a young healer who seemed to be in over his head. Harry looked askance at McGonagall, who shook her head and continued confidently through the corridors. Harry wondered briefly how many friends and colleagues she'd seen in St. Mungo's, but he didn't ask, and she didn't say.

At last they reached a marginally quieter part of the floor, where a shining silver sign said 'Malfoy Ward: Head Healer - Augustus Wood'. McGonagall opened the door and shepherded Harry into the ward.

Exhausted looking wizards and witches moved from bed to bed, taking notes, checking pulses and dressings, stopping to yawn and rub their eyes.

"Is this all from Birmingham" Harry whispered. McGonagall nodded once, but said nothing. Harry looked a little closer at his teacher, and realised how pale she looked. He wondered if she had been in Birmingham, dueling with the Death Eaters alongside Kingsley Shacklebolt, Lupin and the others.

He looked away, glancing from patient to patient, seeing burns and gashes, broken bones and people with no outward signs of injuries, but who stared vacantly about them, not seeming to see the suffering around them.

"Where's Remus" Harry asked, feeling queasy from just being in the room. McGonagall looked at him closely.

"Harry, we can go now, if you wish."

"No" Harry said, wanting to leave more than anything. "I have to see him. I won't have him thinking that no one cares about him."

"He's in here somewhere, then" McGonagall said. "Let's look around."

They moved down the ward, which had around fifty beds in it. One or two of the patients called out to them, but McGonagall kept them swiftly moving forward. Towards the end of the ward, there were a few empty beds, and finally one with a curtain pulled around it.

"That must be Remus" McGonagall said. "He'd have wanted privacy."

"Why"

"It was a full moon three nights ago" McGonagall said curtly.

"And you sent him on a mission" Harry asked. "He was ill"

"We didn't send him, Potter" McGonagall managed to snap, without her voice rising above a whisper. "Remus went of his own volition. It is very difficult to prevent someone Apparating, as I would hope you are aware."

Harry fell quiet, but glared at the curtain, willing Remus to be on the other side, well enough to walk out of St. Mungo's with them.

McGonagall pulled back the curtain a little, and gestured Harry through. Remus was lying on the bed, his eyes shut, and a nasty red mark splashed across the left side of his chest and up onto his neck.

"What happened to him" Harry asked.

"He was burned" McGonagall said, looking at his chart. "I suppose that as it was the first night after the full moon, he was still weak."

Harry stood by the side of Remus' bed, looking down at his former teacher. His gaze settled on Remus' usually careworn face, now relaxed and much calmer as he slept.

"The doctor has given him some form of mild sedative. He's due to wake up anytime" McGonagall said.

"Right" Harry replied. He sat down, and rested his hands on the mattress. Remus moved, his fists clenching slightly as his face drew into a frown. Harry reached out instinctively to take his hand, but stopped, looking up at McGonagall, who was standing at the foot of the bed.

Remus' eyes flickered, and a faint sigh escaped his lips. McGonagall walked around the bed, standing opposite Harry and watching with concern as Remus shifted uneasily, slowly awakening to what was clearly a great deal of pain.

"Remus" McGonagall asked, brushing his hair out of his eyes. "Can you hear me"

"Yes. And if you stopped shouting, maybe I wouldn't have a headache" Remus replied.

"I'm not shouting, Remus" McGonagall replied.

"So I can't blame you for this headache"

"I'm afraid not."

"Worth a try" Remus groaned. "What in Merlin's name happened"

"What do you remember" McGonagall asked.

"We went to Birmingham" he replied. "There were Death Eaters attacking in the north of the city. I chased one of them... What was I thinking"

"Remus" Harry asked, quietly.

"Harry" Remus saw him for the first time. "What are you doing here? Why aren't you with your relatives" He tried to sit up, but dropped back onto his pillow, his face ashen and sweat beading his forehead.

"No, we'll have none of that, Mr. Lupin" announced one of the mediwizards as he entered Remus' cubicle. "You took a nasty hit, and you need time to heal. No exerting yourself, do you hear me"

"Yes, Doctor" Remus groaned. He looked down at the red splash across his chest for a second, before looking up at the white-robed wizard.

"Relashio" he asked.

"Exactly" the doctor agreed. "Nasty spell that, if it catches you when you're weak. Not to worry though, we'll have you up on your feet in no time."

"Why can't you just heal him" Harry asked. "Burning doesn't take much healing, does it"

The mediwizard looked at Remus, who nodded, and then turned to Harry. He spoke in a very quiet voice.

"Mr. Lupin here is a werewolf, and still has traces of the Wolfsbane potion in his bloodstream. These factors make traditional medicines very unreliable at the best of times and completely ineffectual for several days after the full moon. He will be up and about next week, about as quickly as a Muggle would recover from burns of this nature, in fact. Now, I should really change your dressings, Remus."

"I'll be in to see you every day, Remus" Harry said as he and McGonagall prepared to take their leave.

"That won't be necessary" Remus said. "It must be a long way to come from Surrey every day. Better to stay with your relatives, although I do appreciate you making the effort today."

"I'm not staying with them" Harry said, as the mediwizard bustled off to get a new set of dressings. "I'm staying... Well, you know" he finished, after a warning look from McGonagall.

"Harry" Lupin began.

"I'm staying there until you're better" Harry cut in. "That isn't open to argument. Do you understand"

Remus looked wearily at McGonagall, who remained silent and impassive.

"Harry, I'm not worth the trouble."

"There's no trouble, Remus" Harry said. "Why should anyone worry where I spend my summer"

"If you're still around when I get out of here" Remus replied, frowning slightly as the mediwizard returned"then we'll talk about this again. Otherwise, I'll see you later, Harry."

"Tomorrow" Harry said firmly.

"Maybe so" Remus said, without batting an eyelid. "I'll certainly try and see you before you go back to school."

Harry and McGonagall left St. Mungo's and made their way back to Grimmauld Place in silence. No sooner had they entered Sirius' house, though, then the silence was broken by the sudden appearance of Hermione and Ron, who cannoned into Harry. The three of them crashed to a heap at the foot of Mrs. Black's portrait, resulting in a shrieking tirade of abuse from the crazed old witch.

"Mudbloods! Filthy mudbloods and blood traitors! Shame, oh shame is on this house! My worthless progeny has betrayed everything this house once stood for by bringing such filth into these halls "

Harry snapped to his feet and was facing the ranting woman in the picture before Ron or Hermione could blink.

"- glorious Dark Lord who wished only to purify "

"Professor" he hissed, his low tone cutting through Mrs. Black's screams as though they weren't even there.

"Yes, Potter"

"- traitorous filth that makes me want to vomit "

"If I decide to evict Mrs. Black, will anyone object"

"No, they will not, but many have tried"

"I haven't."

"- Kreacher, faithful Kreacher "

Harry's eyes narrowed into mere slits and his face contorted, a snarl appearing there and twisting his face in a way that he found almost comfortable and soothing.

Mrs. Black shrieked as his nails dug into the pain on her canvas.

His first swings were wild, clawing movements, doing little more than superficial damage to the portrait. Mrs. Black screamed, nonetheless, and out of the corner of his eye Harry could see Ginny, Ron and Hermione with their hands over their ears. McGonagall watched impassively as Harry redoubled his efforts.

He tore at the painting, eventually drawing his wand and stabbing it into the centre of the canvas. He tore at the hole, smiling grimly as Mrs. Black tried to find safe haven in her ever diminishing portrait.

The screams moved beyond the audible range open to the human ear, and instead became a deeply unsettling vibration that seemed to shake Harry's teeth in their sockets, but still he kept his hands on the painting, tearing strips from the canvas. His hands were covered in dried, dusty paint. Panting, he stepped back, his hand falling on his wand. Mrs. Black cowered in the last, untouched corner of the painting, and Harry stared into her terrified eyes as he tried to think of a spell.

His mind settled on one, and he took a deep breath.

"_EXPELLIARMUS!_"

Harry's wand flew from his hand.

"A painting is not alive" Albus Dumbledore announced, coming to stand by Harry's side. "It is a mere enchantment, a trick, a spell, a memory of someone who has long departed this world. In Mrs. Black's case, she was not mourned, and her portrait only hung here because no one knew of a way to remove it. No one, that is, until you, Harry."

Harry turned to look at Dumbledore, and his eyes met his headmaster's for the first time since the night of Sirius' death. What he found there was Dumbledore's usual good-natured gaze, tempered with concern, which, Harry allowed, was probably understandable.

"She made Sirius' life miserable" Harry said, exhaustion seeping into his voice even though it was not yet midday. He looked away from his headmaster, and slumped against the wall. "Before and after she died. He hated being here, being reminded of her, of the rest of his family. Professor" he said, shaking his head slightly"Where's Kreacher"

Dumbledore voice carried a certain humour. "When Sirius died, certain things were willed to the Order, in my care. Among those was Kreacher's contract of services."

"He has a contract" Hermione asked. "With pay? And "

"Contract of ownership might be more appropriate" Dumbledore cut in.

"Don't start" Harry said, raising one hand in Hermione's direction. "Don't say anything about Kreacher right now, Hermione. For some reason, I don't feel very kindly towards him today. Sirius grew up here, and he was a good man, right? He could have been just like the rest of them, he'd have been in Slytherin, become a Death Eater like his brother, but he didn't. Sirius was good, and he's dead because of Kreacher, a foul little putrid piece of scum who decided he'd rather serve the Malfoy family than stay loyal to Sirius.

"I " Hermione began, but Ron shushed her, whatever she may have had to say about Sirius, or Kreacher, or Mrs. Black, Ron seemed to know that Harry wasn't going to be interested at that moment.

"How are you feeling, Harry" Dumbledore asked.

"Tired."

"I'm not surprised" Dumbledore said. "You have just expended a great deal of energy, even for one as young and healthy as yourself. You should get some sleep, Harry. You'll feel better when you wake."

Harry nodded, and was about to go upstairs to his room when he realised that he didn't know why Dumbledore had suddenly appeared at the Order's headquarters.

"Sir" he began. "Why are you here"

"They have announced the candidates for the position of Minister of Magic" Dumbledore said. "As I was coming to check on things here anyway, I thought I would come over immediately after I heard."

"Who's running, Albus" Molly Weasley asked, looking away from Harry, he realised, for the first time since she'd appeared in the doorway to the kitchen.

"Madam Amelia Bones is the favourite, apparently" Dumbledore reported. "She has been the head of Magical Law Enforcement for many years now, and would be an excellent choice."

"She was at my hearing" Harry remembered, thinking back to his appearance before a Ministry council the previous summer. "She seemed to be on my side."

"She is a great believer in justice for all" Dumbledore said. "The way Fudge conducted your trial did not sit well with her or her supporters, Harry."

"Who else is running" Hermione asked, her cheeks slightly pink from having been snapped at by Harry, but otherwise resembling in every way the inquisitive student who excelled in her lessons.

"The other two candidates are less obvious names" Dumbledore said, frowning slightly. "Amos Diggory, who was recently made head of the department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, and Gladforth Goyle, father of your contemporary Gregory."

"Cedric's father" Harry asked, at the same time as Ron asked "Goyle's dad"

"Indeed" Dumbledore nodded to them both.

"But Goyle's dad's a Death Eater" Ron pointed out.

"There is no actual proof of that" Dumbledore said. "Merely the belief springing from Harry's most interesting interview with the _Quibbler_ and, latterly, the _Daily Prophet_."

"Mr. Goyle can't think he'll win, can he" Hermione asked.

"I do not think so" Dumbledore said. "I suspect he has been pushed forward as a candidate, possibly in an attempt to split the vote and ensure that no clear winner is found."

"What would happen then" Ginny asked.

"Re-elections between the two candidates with the highest number of votes. Another few days without a Minister. It is hardly a masterstroke if that is the plan. The elections will take place next week, in any case, and so we will have our answers shortly."

Harry made his way upstairs, barely hearing as the discussion over the elections and candidacies moved into the kitchen. As he fell back onto his unmade bed, he wondered briefly if Ron had planned on spending his summer debating the respective merits of the candidates for the position of Minister of Magic.

Somehow, he decided as darkness swum about his vision, he thought that it was unlikely.

_To be continued..._

_A quick note: Due to issues with the way that uploading a file here randomly strips a lot of the punctuation marks- you may have noticed in this chapter -I'm calling a halt to updates to this story on this sitefor the time being. Updates will continue at Phoenix Song and Schnoogle, links to both of which you can find in my profile._


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